


a bright centre to the universe

by iphigenias



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, First Kiss, Future Fic, Star Wars References
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-31
Updated: 2017-07-31
Packaged: 2018-12-09 03:05:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11660310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iphigenias/pseuds/iphigenias
Summary: Lydia is silent for a moment, and then: “Ahsoka is a way better protagonist than Luke,” she says. Stiles laughs.“Of course you would say that.”Lydia sighs into the phone. “Give me an hour,” she says. “I’ll meet you at IHOP. You’re paying for dinner.”“Pancakes for dinner?” Stiles asks incredulously, but she’s already hung up the phone.





	a bright centre to the universe

**Author's Note:**

> HAPPY TEEN WOLF DAY. as much as i love 6a stydia for the purposes of this fic just pretend it didn't happen okay? and... yeah. if you don't like star wars you probably won't like this fic. title is from _a new hope_

“Scott, come on, you promised.” Stiles flops down on his pillows and sighs. He can hear his best friend’s hesitation over the phone line. “You know, one of these days you _will_ cave in and see it.”

“I know, and I will,” Scott says. “But just…”

“Not today,” Stiles finishes for him. “But it’s _Christmas_ man, are you really gonna let me down now?”

“Stiles, you’re Jewish, you don’t even celebrate Christmas.”

“Well, yeah, but.” Stiles sighs again. “It’s the _sentiment_ , Scotty.”

“I really am sorry,” Scott says, and the regret in his voice is genuine. “It’s just—you know it’s been forever since I saw Kira.”

“And you’d rather spend your break boning your girlfriend than cashing in on some quality bro-time? Hurts, dude. Really hurts.”

“Uh huh.” There’s a rustling on Scott’s end of the phone. “Look, I gotta go. Some other time, yeah? I promise I’ll see it with you before term starts again.”

“Yeah, sure, Scott,” Stiles replies, but there’s no heat to the words. He knows Scott means well. “Catch ya later.”

“Bye, Stiles.”

Stiles throws his phone across the bed as soon as Scott hangs up. It’s only three hours til midnight, and Stiles has an extra ticket to the premiere of the new _Star Wars_ and a carefully assembled Han Solo costume waiting in his closet with no-one to match with. Scott was gonna be Luke, and it was gonna be _awesome_ —except his best friend bailed on him at the last minute, and now Stiles is out of ideas. He doesn’t even consider asking his dad. The Sheriff has a great tolerance of many of Stiles’ passions, but _Star Wars_ is not one of them. And it’s not like he has an abundance of friends still living in Beacon Hills to call last minute. Although…

Stiles reaches for his phone and dials her number before he can second-guess himself. Lydia picks up on the third ring, sounding far too put-together for 9pm on a Thursday night. “I thought you and Scott were having bro-time tonight,” she says instead of hello. Stiles rolls his eyes.

“Yeah, plan sort of fell through. Scott has plans with Kira now so…”

“So you got dumped.” She sounds far too amused for the situation.

“Yes, Lydia, thank you. I got dumped.”

“Uh huh. What do you want, Stiles.”

Stiles sighs. Lydia knows him far too well. “The thing is, I have an extra ticket to the premiere. So…”

“So I’m your second choice? After _Scott_?”

“Well…”

“Gee, Stiles, you really know how to charm a girl.”

“Would you just say yes already? I know you’re a secret fan.” That shocks Lydia into momentary silence.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she finally says, tone prim and clipped. Stiles rolls his eyes again.

“Come on, Lydia. I’ve been to your dorm. You think I didn’t recognise the complete _Clone Wars_ boxset on your bookshelf?”

“I…”

“It’s _me_ , Lydia, seriously. I won’t judge.”

Lydia is silent for a moment, and then: “Ahsoka is a way better protagonist than Luke,” she says. Stiles laughs.

“Of course you would say that.”

Lydia sighs into the phone. “Give me an hour,” she says. “I’ll meet you at IHOP. You’re paying for dinner.”

“Pancakes for dinner?” Stiles asks incredulously, but she’s already hung up the phone.

Stiles spends the hour bullshitting the introduction to an essay due first day back next term. He gets dressed into his costume ten minutes before he has to leave, and spends way too long fixing his hair in the mirror before finally being satisfied enough to grab the keys to the Jeep and hustle outside. Lydia’s car is already parked in the IHOP lot when he arrives, so he pulls in next to her and walks inside. His jaw drops.

Lydia’s hair is twisted into two buns on either side of her head, and she’s wearing a white robe cinched at the waist. She quirks an eyebrow at Stiles when he walks in and sits down opposite her. “You dressed up,” he says, not a question. She smiles.

“I couldn’t leave you hanging,” she says. “And odds were you were going as Han, so. I improvised.”

“You look amazing.” And that’s the problem. Stiles can’t _stop_ looking. He’d pretty much got over his Lydia infatuation by the time they hit senior year in high school, but seeing her dressed up as _Princess Leia_ , willingly about to come to the new _Star Wars_ premiere with him—it’s enough to bring the depth and weight of his feelings for her, buried for so long inside of him, back up to the surface.

“You don’t look half-bad yourself,” she allows, and flags down a waiter. They make meaningless small talk over their pancakes, Lydia’s drizzled with strawberries and Nutella and Stiles’ drenched in maple syrup, about their subjects and their college friends and their parents and the weather. It’s always easy, talking to Lydia. They went through so much together in high school, it’s impossible for anything between them to be awkward anymore. And even though they’re friends now, maybe even best friends although Stiles would never, _ever_ admit that to Scott—there’s something there, beneath the surface. Maybe it’s in the way Lydia hasn’t really stopped smiling since Stiles sat down opposite her, or the way his heart has been beating dangerously fast for way too long to be healthy, or how the ugly fluorescent light overhead does nothing to diminish the radiance Lydia exudes like breathing.

Stiles really thought he was over this. He’s had girlfriends—and boyfriends—in college, not to mention his relationship with Malia back in high school—he should be over Lydia. He _is_ over her. Except, apparently, when she’s dressed as Princess Leia and is sitting across from him in IHOP at 11pm, with a smudge of Nutella at the corner of her mouth he can’t seem to stop staring at.

“You have, um,” he says, gesturing to his mouth. Lydia blinks, _blushes_ , honest to God, and wipes the stain off hastily.

“Thanks,” she says, _still blushing_ , blushing _because of him._ Stiles glances quickly down at his hands where they’re resting on the table; counts his fingers to make sure he isn’t dreaming. When he looks back up Lydia is staring at him, blush mostly gone, but she’s smiling. “We should get going,” she says, and Stiles blinks, because he had genuinely, completely forgotten about the movie.

“Yeah,” he says belatedly, standing and waiting for Lydia to join him before paying the bill. “Do you wanna ride together?” he asks once they’re out in the parking lot. “It’ll be easier to find a park, and we can always come back here after.”

“Okay,” Lydia says, “but we’re taking my car.” Stiles rolls his eyes but slides into the passenger seat. The drive to the cinema is short, and Lydia finds a park fairly close to the entrance. “I’ll buy the popcorn,” she says, and Stiles stares at her.

“Who are you?” he wonders aloud. This time it’s Lydia who rolls her eyes.

They’re early, so they get good seats. Almost everyone in the cinema is dressed up, and Stiles might be biased but Lydia is definitely the best Leia in the crowd. He tells her so and she preens. “If I had more time I would’ve been even better, but thank you, Stiles,” she says, and the brightness of her smile almost makes him miss the start of the previews.

And, okay. Sitting in a movie theatre in matching _Star Wars_ costumes with Lydia is pretty much a dream come true, but when the movie does finally start Stiles forgets everything but the plot unfolding before his eyes. He’s a big fan, okay? And Lydia would understand. When he spares her a glance, during the scene where Finn is helping Poe escape the clutches of the First Order, she looks just as enthralled as he feels. It is an infinitely better sight than what Scott would have no doubt looked like if he had come along after all. Stiles is almost glad he cancelled. (Almost. It remains his life’s mission to get Scott to watch at _least_ the original trilogy.)

By the time the movie ends, it’s quarter to three in the morning and Stiles is blinking back tears. Lydia looks no better. “Shut up,” she says when he looks over at her, wiping furiously at her eyes and looking murderously at the screen as the credits roll. “I hope Kylo fucking _dies_ in the next one,” she says viciously. Stiles nods his agreement.

“That was… wow.” They make their way out of the theatre back to Lydia’s car. “When the lightsaber just fucking _flies_ past Kylo to Rey? Holy _shit_ ,” Stiles is saying as they climb into the passenger seat.

“I know!” Lydia says. “And Finn using the lightsaber? If he isn’t force sensitive I will eat my entire right arm.”

“À la Skywalker,” Stiles says, and she laughs.

“Exactly.”

They drive back to the IHOP dissecting every scene of the movie they can remember. Lydia pulls into the parking lot in the middle of a heated debate over Finn’s love interest in the sequels. “It _has_ to be Poe, I mean, the whole jacket thing?” Lydia says, pulling the handbrake and putting the car in park.

“Rey was _totally_ set up as the love interest though,” Stiles argues. “They’d be so cute together!” Lydia rolls her eyes.

“Another heteronormative romance, how groundbreaking.”

“Hey, I didn’t say they were both straight. Finn’s obviously coded as bi.”

“So you _do_ think he likes Poe!”

“Of course I do, but let’s be real here. Do you really think Lucasfilm would allow a same-sex interracial relationship?” Lydia deflates visibly.

“No, you’re right.” Stiles grins.

“Sorry, what was that?”

“I _said_ ,” Lydia replies, rolling her eyes, “you’re _right_. Hope you recorded that for posterity because I am never saying it again.”

“I _wish_.” Stiles looks at the clock on the dash. It’s well after 3am. They should probably get going if they want any semblance of sleep tonight. Then again, Stiles is wired after the movie and Lydia looks as bright-eyed as ever. “Wanna split a pie or something?” he asks, inclining his head towards IHOP. Lydia shudders.

“If I eat anything else I _will_ throw up on you.”

“Ouch. How ‘bout a drink, then?”

Lydia smiles. “As long as you’re designated driver.”

“Then the Jeep it is.”

They end up at a dive bar on the edge of town, the only place open and allowing walk-ins at half past three in the morning. The bartender doesn’t blink twice at their costumes when they order their drinks, a mojito for Lydia and a mid-strength beer for Stiles because being DD fucking _sucks_.

“Times like this I’m glad as _hell_ I’m not a werewolf,” Stiles says, downing half his beer. “You know they can’t get drunk? How much would that _suck_.”

“ _So_ much,” Lydia agrees. “Who needs super strength and advanced healing if you can’t get fucking _blitzed_ on a—” she checks her watch, “—Friday morning.”

“Much rather be a Jedi instead,” Stiles says, finishing his beer and staring morosely at the empty glass. He flags down the bartender and orders a Coke.

“I thought Han was your hero,” Lydia says, nodding at Stiles’ costume. He shrugs.

“Well, _yeah_ , but _Jedi_ , Lydia, come on.”

“True.” She finishes her mojito in silence and orders another. “Wanna know something?” she asks quietly as the bartender makes the cocktail. “I’m glad Scott cancelled on you tonight.” The light in the bar is low, but Stiles would swear on his father’s life that Lydia is blushing. He smiles, soft and slow.

“Me too,” he confesses. “Don’t tell Scott this, but you’re much better company.” Lydia laughs.

“High praise,” she says, smiling.

“The highest.” Stiles steals a sip of her mojito when the bartender places it in front of them. “But with _the worst_ taste in alcohol, what _is_ that?”

Lydia hums thoughtfully as she sips her drink. “Bacardi. Mint. Lime juice. Some other stuff I can’t remember.”

“ _Rum_ , gross.” Lydia raises an eyebrow.

“And carb-filled beer _isn’t_ gross?”

“ _Mid-strength_ , thanks very much.”

Lydia laughs. “My mistake.” She stirs her mojito. “When do you go back?”

“The second. Haven’t booked flights yet, though, which… I should do.”

She nods. “We could fly together,” she says, voice light. “Part of the way, at least. I could make sure you don’t get lost in the airport again.”

“That was _one time_.” She laughs, turning into a squeal when Stiles flicks Coke at her face. “That’d be cool, though. Have you booked?”

“Not yet.”

“Well, we should do that together too. Make sure you don’t end up on a plane to Havana instead.” Lydia rolls her eyes but doesn’t stop smiling. Stiles’ heart flips over inside his chest. “So, you know,” he continues, trying not to sound as nervous as he feels. “Dinner, movie, drinks after… to the casual observer this looks a lot like a date.”

“Don’t forget the matching couple costumes,” Lydia says, still smiling.  

“Of course, how stupid of me.” Lydia says nothing, and Stiles sighs. She’s really going to make him say it, isn’t she? “So, you know. Hypothetically, if I wanted this to be a real date, would you be opposed to that idea?”

“Hypothetically, if a guy asks a girl to dinner and a movie and drinks after and she says yes, I think it’s pretty obvious what she’s agreeing to.” Stiles can feel what is possibly the biggest and stupidest grin in the history of the entire world unfurl across his face but he can’t bring himself to care. “And, hypothetically,” Lydia continues, and yeah, she is _definitely_ blushing, “if the guy asked to kiss the girl before taking her home, she probably wouldn’t mind.”

Stiles laughs, all pretense gone. “Can I kiss you, Lydia?” he asks, voice too loud for almost four in the morning. Lydia tilts her head.

“I don’t know, can you?”

Stiles kisses her instead of answering, and it feels like the end of a movie and the beginning of forever all at once.

 

*

 

Two months later, Stiles tells Lydia he loves her over the phone. “I know,” she replies, and Stiles isn’t even mad she used Han against him because the moment is perfect anyway.


End file.
